


Head Spin

by besanii



Series: Cheese Platter [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Exercising, Grantaire is hot, Gyms, M/M, Pining, Pining Enjolras, Piningjolras, Prompt Fill, Smittenjolras, and really neither do i, but i tried, enjolras knows nothing about gyms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besanii/pseuds/besanii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Courfeyrac’s idea to follow Grantaire, Bahorel and Jehan to their weekly gym sessions.  He’d been complaining that he needed to get fitter and sitting on his ass all day in law lectures was doing nothing to help that.  And then he’d dragged Combeferre and Enjolras into it – Combeferre, because that’s what good boyfriends do, and Enjolras because…well.  The reason Enjolras even stepped into the gym in the first place is currently sweating it out on the air walker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Spin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiyala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/gifts).



> This was based on a [gif prompt](http://besanii.tumblr.com/post/77372090089/exr-at-the-gym-head-spin) submitted by [kiyala](kiyala.tumblr.com), who is absolutely evil because George Blagden getting sweaty is like every fangirl's wet dream.
> 
> I've only ever been to a gym once and this is the product of a long conversation with a personal trainer there, who was a little confused because I seemed more interested in talking about the machines rather than actually using them. I am never stepping foot inside one again, though, because it does very bad things for my poor rheumatic joints.

Enjolras is so very, very fucked.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to go to the gym in the first place – he  _hates_  exercising and sweating and all of this happens  _at the gym_  and he’s miserable and doesn’t know how to use the equipment and –

Grantaire lifts one of his hands from the handles of his machine to wipe the sweat from his brow and Enjolras’ brain short-circuits.

Oh yes, that’s why.

It was Courfeyrac’s idea to follow Grantaire, Bahorel and Jehan to their weekly gym sessions.  He’d been complaining that he needed to get fitter and sitting on his ass all day in law lectures was doing nothing to help that.  And then he’d dragged Combeferre and Enjolras into it – Combeferre, because that’s what good boyfriends do, and Enjolras because…well.  The reason Enjolras even stepped into the gym in the first place is currently sweating it out on the [air walker](http://www.comparestoreprices.co.uk/images/ca/carl-lewis-air-walker-awd15.jpg).

He most certainly is  _not_  admiring the way the muscles flex and shift under that form-fitting grey t-shirt when Courfeyrac slaps him on the back and he most certainly does  _not_  blush at the suggestive grin on his friend’s face.

"You know," Courfeyrac says, dragging out the last word, "you could just go over there and ask Grantaire to show you how to use the machines."

Enjolras swears Grantaire has super sonic hearing, because he looks up at the sound of his name, sees them and takes out his earphones with a questioning look.  Courfeyrac waves enthusiastically and Enjolras wants to curl up and die when he runs a hand through his sweat-damp curls on his way over.

"What’s up?"

"We need your help," Courfeyrac says without preamble.  He nudges Enjolras forward.  "He’s never set foot in a gym before–"

"Neither have you," Enjolras says, and is promptly ignored.

"–and he needs you to show him the ropes."

Grantaire raises his eyebrows, but shrugs.

"Sure, whatever.  I can show you something easy I guess."  He gives Enjolras a once-over that leaves his insides squirming.  "What did you want to work on?"

"Arms!" Courfeyrac grabs Enjolras’ arms from behind and gives him a firm shake that rattles his bones.  "Look at his twig arms!"

Enjolras is going to kill him.  Courfeyrac is going to die a slow, painful death. Enjolras is going to rip him limb from limb with his bare hands and then they’ll see who has the twig arms.  His murderous diatribe is interrupted by a second pair of hands reaching for him, lifting his arms up briefly.  The touch burns his skin and his pulse jumps.

"Alright, arms it is," Grantaire says, dropping his arms.  They smack against Enjolras’ sides heavily.  "Although, a full body workout wouldn’t hurt, either – should we try the ladder?"

"The what?"

"Just – just come, I’ll show you."  Courfeyrac waves goodbye cheerily and skips off to join Combeferre at the treadmills.  Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras spots Bahorel and Jehan at the weights, doing bench presses.  Grantaire snorts when he notices the direction of his gaze.  "Yeah, I wouldn’t even think about that just yet, Enjolras.  Let’s start with something light first."

On the far side of the room, there is a large machine that looks like a ladder set on a gentle incline.  Grantaire unhooks a length of wire from the side and beckons Enjolras over.

"Okay, this is a [Jacobs Ladder](http://www.fitnessexchange.com/images/bdfJACOBSLADDER%20copy_01.jpg),” he says.  The sound of velcro ripping punctuates his words.  ”Basically, all you have to do is get on and climb.  The higher you go, the faster the rungs move down.  If you want to get off, just stop and let it bring you down.  This goes around your waist.”

He holds up the wire and Enjolras sees it’s actually a harness.  He nods, holding his arms up to allow Grantaire to wrap it around him.  His breath does  _not_  catch when those hands brush against his torso, although his skin feels as if it’s been branded even through his shirt.  Finally, Grantaire clips something to his chest.

"That’s the safety.  If you fall off, or slip, it’ll fall off your shirt and the machine will stop automatically," he says.  "So you won’t get hurt.  It’s easy.  Wanna give it a go?"

Enjolras nods.  He climbs onto the machine, bending down to grasp the rungs in his hands.  As soon as he reaches for the next one up, it starts moving in a gentle rhythm to match his pace.  Grantaire sucks in an audible breath behind him, which makes him turn around.  As soon as he does, however, Grantaire looks away, flushing.

"Yeah, okay, well – um, one set is five minutes.  I’ll set the timer for you," he says.  "And, uh – I’ll be nearby.  Just shout when you’re done."

He leaves Enjolras to his exercise.  It’s soothing, Enjolras finds, once you fall into a rhythm.  He starts off strong and climbs high, matching the quickening pace of the machine, and this goes well for about two minutes.  Then he starts feeling the strain.  His arms and legs start burning with every step and reach and he’s working up a good sweat.  At the end of four minutes, he looks up to try and find Grantaire.

The world goes white for a brief moment and his head throbs with the sudden rush of blood.  His grip on the machine slackens.

"Enjolras!"

There are hands on his hips as he lets the machine guide him back down to the floor.  Once he’s back on solid ground, he rubs his eyes and gives his head a good shake to rid himself of the lightheadedness.  The hands turn him around, bringing him face to face with a very worried Grantaire.

"Hey, hello, hi," he manages to say.  His cheeks are burning with embarrassment.  "Um, yeah – don’t look up.  Head spin."

"I figured."  Grantaire tuts, reaching up to smooth Enjolras’ hair gently.  "Sorry, I should have said something earlier."

"S’okay, I kind of figured it out for myself."  He looks down to where Grantaire’s hands are still gripping his hips, the fingers pressing tightly into his skin.  "Um."

"Oh, sorry."  Grantaire releases him quickly.  The lack of pressure leaves him feeling oddly adrift and he doesn’t like it.  "Did you want a break?"

"No, I – uh…" he flounders around, flustered.  He settles back on Grantaire when he can’t locate their friends anywhere in the vicinity.  "Can I watch you do your thing for a while?  I just need to get my bearings."

"It’s going to be very boring," Grantaire warns him.  Enjolras nods.  "Alright.  If you’re sure.  Let me know if you get bored and we’ll find you something to do."

He slings his towel around the back of his neck and makes his way back to the weird death trap he had been working at before, a few metres away.  Enjolras watches him walk.  His eyes drift down to the dark blue gym shorts and tries to picture the muscles underneath it flexing and bending.

No, he doesn’t think he’ll be bored.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://besanii.tumblr.com/)


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